we are not numbers
emerging writers from Palestine tell their stories and advocate for their human rights
The streets are not quiet for long.
Come and see the empty street.
It’s quiet.
But amidst it all,
a baby cries;
her mom is gone, lost in an instant.
She stops, exhausted.
The street is quiet again.
Once again, explosions erupt.
More crying.
Another baby without a parent.
Who knows what their stories will be
as they grow up in a world of loss?
The skies light up.
Missiles flare above the city.
Questions ring in the minds of all:
Is it my turn?
